


Caught Red (or White) Handed

by shy_violet_soul



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 07:18:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16849594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shy_violet_soul/pseuds/shy_violet_soul
Summary: Someone thinks they’re very sneaky with their thievery.  But the evidence is un-donut-able…





	Caught Red (or White) Handed

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a meme from another fandom with this, and it made me laugh. Got me wondering how this would go down with our favorite Winchester brothers. This drabble is unbeta’d, all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Sam Winchester & Dean Winchester are characters created/owned by the CW. This is a work of fiction by me, and is not to be printed elsewhere without my written permission.

 

Photo credit: [ www.fanpop.com ](http://www.fanpop.com) \- Kaidi and rawr_caps@lj

 

Sam Winchester loved healthy food.

Dean frequently proclaimed him a freak of nature, that it was _unnatural_ how much green stuff he ate.  But Sam genuinely enjoyed healthy food.  A baby spinach salad lightly dressed with a nice vinaigrette, some grilled chicken, Greek olives, and feta - yum.  He’d had a portobello mushroom Wellington with a side of buttery mashed cauliflower once that he still had good dreams about.  His favorite go-to snack? Good ol’ Red Delicious apple. Dean had sniggered when he’d started buying lunchbox packs of mini peanut butter to add some flavor and protein, but he didn’t care.  His brother shoveling in the beef jerky and Bugles meant Sam didn’t have to share the good stuff. Give him sulfate and saturated fat freedom any day!

But sometimes a guy just needed some heavily processed sugar.  Guilt free, cholesterol-laden junk that he shamelessly enjoyed without a thought to any brotherly judgement.

The fact that he was hiding in the archive room, wedged in a shadowed corner of a bookshelf with his junk food, was irrelevant.  The fact that the junk food was stolen _wasn’t_.

The door to the room creaked open, and Sam’s throat seized up around the contraband crumbs he inhaled in his surprise.  

“Sammy?” came the query, bootfalls entering the room, and Sam shoved the cellophane package behind the trashcan he’d been perched on.  Seizing the book closest to him, Sam shouldered some nonchalance into his stance as he stepped into his brother’s view.

“Hey, Dean.  What’s up?” Dean stared at him with a curiously expressionless face.  Half-chewed crumbs and dissolving sugar coated his throat, and Sam chanced a quick blink to push back the choke-induced water from his eyes.  Dean slowly strode towards him, coming close enough to crane his head to read from the open book Sam held. Heat crawled up Sam’s neck when Dean calmly picked up the book and flipped it right-side up for him vs. the upside down that, apparently, hadn’t fooled him.  

“Reading up on the lore?”

“Yeah. Sure.  Uh, just keeping on with the reading.  Yep.”

Dean nodded, pursing his lips agreeably as he turned to study a row of boxes at his shoulder.

“Hey, Sammy?”

Swallowing hard, Sam tried to move the burn and slide of the bite stuck in his throat, striving for a casual air as he stared down at the page.  “Yeah?”

“You haven’t seen my mini powdered donuts, have you?”

The face Sam turned to his brother was a marvel of surprise and scorn.  “Your donuts? No.”

Dean merely nodded, pulling a lid off a box and rifling through its contents as the silence between them grew.  Surreptitiously, Sam studied his brother, his shoulders relaxing a bit as a crease appeared between Dean’s brows that spoke of deep concentration.  Carefully, Sam seated himself in a chair, clearing his throat free of the last clump sticking there. The quiet was broken only by the rustle of paper here and there…

“Hey, Sammy?”

“Mmmhmm?”

“What’s that white stuff all over your face and shirt?”

Sam’s face swiveled to look at Dean, his tongue darting out to catch the sugary evidence he didn’t realize outed him.  When Dean smirked, that infuriating smirk that Sam had spent years seething under, Sam slapped the most self-righteous, innocent look on his face he could muster as he gathered himself up to full height.

“That’s cocaine, Dean.  I don’t want to talk about it.”  And he took off for his room, dragging his nutritional dignity behind him, sagging beneath the laughter that followed him.

“You owe me a pack of donuts, Jack LaLanne!”


End file.
